To mortal plane the god descends
To claim result of husbands sins.
And hoping task to stay unknown
Disguises self as elder crone.

And begs in streets till woman came
In arms of Heras' husband lain.
And holding baby fast in arms
Did check to see if crone was harm.

"Why sleep in street my mother dear
With many dangers lurking near.
Where dwells your children's love for life
You granted welps with greatest strife?

Has all your kin forsaken crone
Who lies in street now all alone?"
And Hera swallows hate in throat
Disguising voice with rasp she spoke.

"No kin I bear in mortal realm
Where pleasures lack and underwhelm.
My love betrayed by husbands' act
For woman strange forsook our pact."

So goddess wove her subtle soothe
Misleading girl by telling truth.
From ground she helped the crone to rise
And lent her aid not knowing lies.

She took her home to feed and clothe
And share with elder meager trove.
Of food and goods she had to live
To elder, girl does quickly give.

But Hera never forgets her task
To youthful mother coyly ask.
"Where dwells the sire of dearest babe
The fathers seems to gone astray?"

And baby's mother pauses brief
Before she shares her troubled grief.
"He came in summer late in year
And left with journeys end unclear.

A wretched game with servant played
And left me lone to care for babe."
And Hera rose her glory shone
No longer bearing form of crone.